


3:30 a.m. in Chicago

by aerye



Series: 9:30 a.m. to Yellowknife [2]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerye/pseuds/aerye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray left Fraser for Vecchio. Question is, will Vecchio take him back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	3:30 a.m. in Chicago

The bus broke down just outside of Rae Edzo, and they spent two hours sitting by the side of the road before another one arrived, this one diverted from Fort Simpson and already crowded, so it was three to a seat for the last leg into Yellowknife. From the bus station, Ray took a cab to the airport, where he made it just in time to hear his flight to Chicago left five minutes ago without him. He tried to call Vecchio but he didn’t answer and when the voice mail came on, it said the mailbox was full. Full of messages from him, Ray realized ironically, and then the adrenaline that had been keeping him going suddenly ran out and he collapsed in one of the vinyl chairs at the gate and dropped his head into his hands, remembering.

* * *

 _"It's me," he says. "I'm on the bus. And unless it breaks down between here and Yellowknife, I'm arriving on the midnight flight at O'Hare."_

 _Vecchio doesn’t say anything for a minute and Ray thinks maybe he hung up._

 _“Vecchio?”_

 _“I’m here,” Vecchio says. “Where is Fraser?”_

 _It’s a struggle to keep his voice even, the memory of Fraser’s face, pale and twisted with grief, still too vivid in his head, but he manages it. “I don’t know. I think he’s on his way back to Inuvik.”_

 _“You don’t know? You talked to him, right?”_

 _“I saw him.” It’s not a lie._

 _“Okay,” Vecchio says, but then he goes quiet again. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough and the words sound like he’s put them through a grater, all broken and sharp. “I swear to god, Kowalski, you better be serious about this. You better be one hundred percent goddamn sure because if you’re not - “_

 _“I am,” he breathes into the phone, his heart thumping something crazy. “I’m sure.”_

 _Vecchio exhales and it’s loud against Ray's ear, and he shivers. “Just make sure you’re on that plane, Kowalski. Because if you aren’t on that plane - “ Vecchio stops again, and then it’s like he's channeling every ounce of anger that's been building up in him over the last eight months, because now his voice is hard and biting and furious like Ray’s only heard it once before, thrown at his back when he was walking out the door. “If you aren’t on that plane, do us both a favor and don’t bother calling me again.”_

 _Vecchio hangs up in his ear just as the bus roars to life._

* * *

The next plane wasn’t for another two hours and it wasn’t scheduled to get into Chicago until 3 a.m. Ray tried Vecchio again but the mailbox was still full, so he found a vending machine where he used up most of his cash buying a couple of sodas, two sandwiches, and a bag of chips, and took them back to the gate to wait. He made short work of the sandwiches and was still hungry, and when he did the math about how long he’d been up and the last time he’d eaten, he went back and used the rest of his change to buy another. It didn’t last long either, and he finished it up with the chips and the other soda, then dumped all his trash in a nearby bin. He tried Vecchio one more time, even though he didn’t expect much, and as soon as he hung up his own cell started beeping; his battery was low and so he turned it off, figuring he’d need it on the other end.

The food filled him up but he was still cold and tired. He tried laying down across a couple of the seats, thinking maybe he’d grab a nap but then he sat up again, afraid he wouldn’t wake up and miss the plane. Then he tried to think of what he should say to Vecchio when he finally saw him, how he should explain that he got that what he’d done was wrong and fucked up, but no matter how many different ways he thought to try to say it, he couldn’t come up with a way that wouldn’t just convince Vecchio he was too fucked up to take a chance on again.

He finally gave up. Leaning forward, he crossed his arms over his knees and rested his head on them, closing his eyes. His mind drifted, and he remembered the way it was with him and Vecchio when it was good and wondered if there was any way to get that back again, if there was any way from here to there. He tried not think about the way Vecchio’s face had gone white, and then hard and unforgiving on the day Ray had walked out on him, but it was like that don’t think about the elephant in the corner of the room thing, and the more he tried not to remember the more he couldn’t forget. Which just led to not being able to forget that last, awful look on Fraser’s face, just a few hours ago, and finally he couldn't sit still anymore so he got up and started pacing back and forth in front of the window, staring out into the dark as he hunched inside his coat, his hands tucked under his arms to try to keep them warm. Eventually one of the security guys started giving him the stink eye and he sat down again, his leg twitching and his eyes fixed on the clock.

Just about the time he thought he was gonna lose it and do something stupid that would get his name in the papers alongside the words “international incident” and “rude Americans,” they boarded the flight. He found his seat and then got up to grab a blanket - the plane was as cold as the airport had been - and then the day finally caught up with him; the attendant was barely finished going over the safety procedures before he fell asleep. He dreamed about the cold, and about being on a bus that never got anywhere but just kept eating up the miles with no end in sight. About getting off the plane and seeing Vecchio walking away from him, and no matter how loud he shouted or how fast he ran, he couldn’t catch up or make Vecchio turn around. He woke himself up at one point, trying to call out to Vecchio to stop, and the man in the seat next to him looked at him funny before he went back to his book. Ray took a deep breath through his nose before he turned and leaned his head against the window, shivering, and fell back asleep.

He woke up for the second time when the wheels hit the tarmac and for a minute he was confused, thinking he was still in Canada and on that cold bus going nowhere, and wondering where and how and why before he remembered everything. The long hours in the truck driving through the snow, the cold, sterile bus station. The anger in Vecchio’s voice. The look on Fraser’s face.

He checked his watch. They were later than he thought they’d be; it was already three-thirty in the morning. He rubbed his eyes and they felt full of sand, itchy and gritty. He ran his hand over his face and his two-day beard; it was rough and prickly against his palm. He shook his head - he was probably a sorry fucking sight to see, and maybe it was a good thing he wouldn’t have to deal with Vecchio until he’d had a chance to pull himself together.

Ray stood up and got his bag from the overhead, narrowly missing bringing it down right on his head. Christ, he needed sleep. Sleep and a hot shower. He’d get himself a room for the night, he decided, someplace cheap near the airport where he could crash for a few hours and get his head on straight before he made another run at Vecchio. Vecchio was bound to be pissed, and if he was looking for a reason to blow Ray off, missing the plane was a perfect excuse. Best idea was for Ray to get his shit together before he even tried to get Vecchio to listen to him - he figured at this point, he probably only had one chance left.

Ray waited impatiently for the aisle to start to clear and filed off the plane in his turn. He shivered as the temperature dropped when he entered the jet-way - the plane had been cold but the air here was frigid, with just the thin walls between him and Chicago in the winter - and when he stepped into the terminal and felt the heated air hit him like a miracle from God or something, he damn near wanted to drop to his knees and shout with relief - it was the first time he’d felt warm all day. He tossed his bag over his shoulder and started toward the escalator to baggage claim, where he knew he could find a hotel kiosk. He'd just exited security when he heard someone call his name.

“Kowalski.”

Ray turned and froze. It was Vecchio. Sitting in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs just outside the restricted area, his coat folded carefully over the chair next to him. He was wearing one of his suits and looking all cool and polished, Ray thought with an ache. Tired, maybe - that was a given at almost four in the morning - and yeah, he still had no hair and his ears were still too big and nobody would ever call Vecchio gorgeous, but then Ray had never really been able to figure anyway what it was about Vecchio that got him hard and feeling needy and _hungry_ the way no one else ever did. He just knew, looking at Vecchio, that he looked like everything Ray ever wanted in his entire world, ever, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up and put his arms around Vecchio and kiss him the way he’d been dreaming about for more months than he was willing to admit.

“What are you doing here?” he finally asked, stupid, because he really couldn’t believe Vecchio had sat there in that shitty chair, in his perfect suit, and waited for Ray to get here.

“I've been waiting on your skinny ass,” Vecchio said. His voice didn’t give away much; he doing that quiet and close-mouthed Langoustini thing he’d nailed in Vegas, and when he did that Ray would bet Vecchio’s own mother couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “When you weren’t on the midnight flight, I checked. They said there was another one coming in from Yellowknife at three so I figured I’d wait around and see if you actually showed.”

“The bus broke down. It - “ He tried to think of some way to explain, some perfect combination of words that would show Vecchio just how hard he’d tried to get here and how it wasn’t his fault that he hadn’t made the flight and that he _wanted_ this, he wanted _him_ , but in the end there really wasn’t any way to do that. There wasn’t any way to make it more than it was. “It broke down.”

“Got it, Kowalski. The bus broke down.” Vecchio shrugged. “I figured it was something like that,” he said, but Ray could tell that it hadn’t been the first thought to cross his mind. “You got bags?”

He didn’t. He’d packed light and quick, interested in moving fast, and only now did he think about how it might look to Vecchio, him standing there with nothing but what he had on or could fit in a duffel bag that maybe measured eighteen inches across at the most. “Just this,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of it where it hung from his shoulder.

“Not much there.” Vecchio leaned down and picked up his coat. “If I wasn’t supposed to know better,” he said, putting it on, “I’d say it doesn’t look like you’re planning on staying long.”

“I wanted to get here fast.” When Vecchio didn’t say anything he added, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Hmm.” Vecchio didn’t sound very convinced. “Let’s go.” He turned and headed toward the sign pointing toward ground transportation and parking. Ray fell into step beside him, and tried to figure out what was coming next.

Vecchio didn’t say anything as they make their way through the practically deserted airport, and they were just out the doors and cutting across the drop-off lanes before he spoke again. “Benny called. You told me you talked to him before you got on that bus but he says you didn’t.”

He tightened his fingers on his bag. “I said I saw him; I didn’t say I talked to him.”

“Oh, fuck off.” For the first time, Vecchio sounded mad. “You knew what I meant when I asked.”

Ray didn’t want to talk about Fraser. That wound was still too raw, even if he’d been the one to leave. He especially didn’t want to talk about it to Vecchio, who didn’t seem all that happy to see him. He was tired and feeling guilty and he’d fucked up before and he’d fucked up now - and he knew he’d fucked up so everyone really didn’t need to keep pointing it out. “There wasn’t anything to talk about.”

“Right.” Vecchio sounded disgusted. “You spend eight months living with the man and when you dump him there’s nothing to say. At least you’re consistent.”

“What do you want me to say?” Ray asked, and now he was feeling as pissed as he was guilty. “I was leaving and he didn’t want me to go. I was getting on that bus and he was going home - “ he tried but his voice cracked right down the middle at the end “ - alone.”

Vecchio flinched but kept on walking.

Ray shook his head, moving faster to keep up. “It’s just - We didn’t have to talk to know that.”

“Yeah, Benny just drove a dog sled all night in the snow over hundreds of miles because you and him had nothing in particular to talk about before you got on that bus. You’re a real prince, you know that, Kowalski?”

Ray kept quiet. Anything he said would just make Vecchio mad and besides, he wasn't wrong.

“Aren’t you gonna ask how he is?” Vecchio finally asked, breaking the silence.

Sure, Ray thought. And then he was gonna hit himself over the head with a bat, just in case he wasn’t hurting bad enough. “How is he?”

Vecchio gave a one-shoulder shrug and Ray suddenly realized Vecchio was feeling guilty too, like he somehow encouraged Ray to leave, when in reality he’d pretty much done exactly the opposite. “He’s Benny. You know how he is. He said he would be fine.”

“Look,” he said tentatively, “you know it’s not your fault that I - “

“I know that.” Vecchio cut him off.

Ray shut up again. He shifted his duffel bag on his shoulder and they walked a couple more minutes in silence. “Did he say anything else?” he finally asked.

“Why the hell do you care? I thought there wasn’t anything needed saying.”

“Vecchio - “

“He said I should forgive you, okay? He said I should take you back.” Vecchio exhaled - it was cold enough to see it, like smoke in the air. “He asked me to take care of you.”

Ray opened his mouth to ask another question and found he had to clear his throat twice. “And what did you say to that?” he finally managed.

“I told him I thought you were a selfish, inconsiderate bastard and I wasn’t sure you deserved it, and that I was pretty sure I shouldn’t bother.” It was Ray’s turn to flinch. Then Vecchio said, “Down there,” and Ray looked at him, confused, until Vecchio pointed to the first row of cars. “I’m at the end.” Vecchio started down the row and after a couple of seconds Ray jogged after him.

“So that’s it? That’s all you talked about?”

Vecchio turned on him, coattail swirling around his knees. “No, Kowalski, then we exchanged pemmican recipes - what the hell do you think?” he snapped. He pressed his lips together - Ray was pretty sure he was trying to keep in whatever he’d planned to say next - and then he looked down at the keys he was jiggling in his hand. Ray kept quiet, shivering in the Chicago cold that was wetter than he had remembered, until Vecchio looked up at him again. It was impossible to read his eyes. “Okay, you want to know what we talked about? I asked him if _he_ was going to forgive _you_. I pointed out you had just walked out on him, same as you did me. You just stomped on his fucking heart, same as you did mine.

“So I asked him, was he gonna forgive you? Would _he_ take you back, if he was me?” Vecchio turned away again and started back on his way to the car. “You satisfied now? Does it make you happy to hear us all fucked up over you? C’mon,” he called out over his shoulder, “I’m freezing my ass off here.”

“Wait.”

Vecchio didn’t even pause.

“Goddamn it, would you just wait!”

Vecchio stopped and seem to gather himself before he started to retrace his steps, stopping in front of Ray.

“Look, I’m sorry - “ Ray started to say.

“Fuck your sorry.” Vecchio ran his hand over his face and sighed. “You have no idea, do you? Do you know what he said when I asked him that?” Vecchio’s voice had gone soft, almost too soft to hear. “Do you know what he said to me? He said he loved you - “

Ray closed his eyes. He couldn’t hear this, not now.

“No, you listen.” Vecchio jabbed him in the shoulder. “He said he _loved_ you. And that he wanted you to be happy, even if that wasn’t with him. Even if that was with _me_.” Vecchio’s voice cracked. “And then he said there was nothing to forgive - that a person can’t help who they love.”

Ray started to shake his head in denial. “He said - ?“

“Kowalski.” Vecchio put his palms over his eyes and pressed hard, then let his hands drop again. He’d looked tired before; now he looked exhausted. “Do me a favor and just shut up, okay?”

Ray hesitated, and then he nodded. His throat was so tight he wasn’t sure he could manage words anyway.

“Fine. Great. So can we go now? Did I mention I’m freezing my nuts off?”

Vecchio stayed quiet until they got in the car, and then stayed that way all the way into the city. Ray didn’t push it. He felt gutted. He hadn’t expected Fraser to call Vecchio, although if he’d thought it through he probably should have. But now Vecchio was pissed at him - more pissed, whatever - and for more than just what happened between the two of them.

He stared out the window, watching the lights pass by, not really seeing anything. When he’d first stepped off the plane and saw Vecchio, he figured Vecchio picking him up, waiting at the airport all those hours when he wasn’t even sure Ray would be on that plane, was a good sign. Now he wasn’t so sure - maybe Vecchio just waited to give himself the chance to throw everything in Ray’s face before he dumped him for good. Then Vecchio turned another corner and started to pull over to the side, and Ray recognized the neighborhood just as Vecchio parked in front of his mother’s house. His heart sank.

He tried to school his face but he must not have been too successful. Vecchio’s hands tightened on the steering wheel before he turned the ignition off. “You are a one piece of work, Kowalski. What - you thought you could just walk out on me and then walk right back in and I’d take you back to my place like nothing ever happened? That things would just go back to the way they were?”

“No! No, I just - Fuck.” He was messing this up all over the place. He didn’t expect that - he _didn’t_. It was just - he was tired and he ached and he felt like he’d spent the day on an emotional trampoline or something, up and down and sideways and off balance, and all he wanted - all he wanted in the world - was to crawl into bed with Vecchio and hang on tight and believe they could find a way back to where they had been. And with every minute that passed that now seemed more and more impossible.

Vecchio was right, though. It was too soon - of course it was too soon. Ray wasn’t thinking straight. “No. Right. Of course, sorry, you’re right. I didn’t mean to - take anything for granted.“ He leaned forward a little, looking up at the house through the front windshield. “You sure your ma won’t mind? I mean especially given - “ _what I did._ “I can go to a hotel.”

Vecchio snorted. “Are you kidding? Ma’ll kill me if she finds out you’re in town and staying at a hotel. C’mon, I’ll let you in and show you where you’re at.”

They were quiet letting themselves in and climbing the stairs. When Vecchio opened a door and gestured for him to go inside, he realized Vecchio was putting him in his old room. It gave him a funny kind of feeling. He dumped his bag on the bed and looked around, then took his coat off and tossed it over a chair. He turned back to Vecchio and crossed his arms over his chest. “Thanks. This is - this is nice. Thanks,” he said again awkwardly.

“Like I said, Ma would have a fit. She’s got some idea you’re family. You know where everything is, right?” Vecchio had put on his polite face, like they were like strangers who just happened to know too much about each other. He hadn’t taken his coat off, like he couldn’t wait to get away from Ray. “I called Ma when you weren’t on the midnight flight - told her if you were here when she woke up to let you sleep.”

Ray nodded. “Thanks for that, too. For waiting, I mean. You didn’t have to,” he said, and he couldn’t help but wish Vecchio would throw him a bone at least, some hint of something he could hold onto that he hadn’t just made the latest in a long line of mistakes by coming back.

But Vecchio just shrugged. “I figured I was already there. What the hell, right?” Ray’s disappointment must have shown on his face because Vecchio suddenly glared at him. “Don’t give me that look. It’s not like there’s not precedent for you changing your mind.

“There are extra blankets in the hall closet, if you need them,” he said, changing the subject. “I don’t think the bed’s been used since last summer so there might be just sheets on it, although Ma might’ve made it up for you.” He dug into his pocket and took out a set of keys. “These’ll work the front and side doors, so’s you can get around.”

“Thanks.” Ray took the keys and shoved them in his pocket. He figured he’d been saying the wrong things all night and didn’t need to add anything to his shitty score, so he left it at that.

“You’re welcome,” Vecchio said shortly, his mouth settling into determined lines. “Okay, look, I gotta get outta here. I got work in four hours and I need to get at least a couple of hours sleep.” He turned to the door.

Ray pulled his hand back from where it had instinctively reached out. “Right.” He took a deep breath. Okay. He could do this. Could play this calm and cool, give Vecchio time, not push too hard, prove himself. “So, I guess - I mean, we should talk though, right? At least? So - I’ll call you? Or do you - ?”

Vecchio grabbed the edge of the doorframe and dropped his head. “Goddamn it. _Goddamn it._ ” He turned back and suddenly Vecchio wasn’t over across the room on his way out the door, he was right there, right front of Ray, and his fingers were digging into Ray arms, into his shoulders. Ray bit down on a sob of relief as Vecchio pulled him close. His hands were on Ray’s face, his thumbs skimming his cheeks and then sliding down to rest in the hollow of his throat, squeezing lightly, trapping Ray’s breath before Vecchio’s hands found their way around to the back of his neck, pulling his head down. Vecchio was breathing hard and his eyes were dark and dilated, pupils blown wide. “Missed you,” he whispered, his voice wrecked, his lips teasing the edge of Ray’s ear, “missed you, Jesus, missed you so goddamn much, Kowalski,” and Ray couldn’t stand it anymore, couldn’t wait, and with a groan he turned his head and kissed Vecchio, giving him lips and tongue and teeth and heat.

“I’m sorry." He whispered the words into Vecchio's mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so - ”

“Shut up. Just shut up already,” Vecchio said, and then he was kissing him again, hungry, so fucking hungry, and when he shoved Ray down on the bed and knelt over him, Ray wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled himself up, meeting Vecchio halfway, kissing him back, his heart pounding furiously with joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Early beta work by raine. Unfortunately, I rewrote a lot of it so all of her hard work may have gone to waste.


End file.
